


Feyren and Friends

by Emmazing15



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M, Genderbending, Multi, it's all gonna be super fun I promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-09 15:45:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11107704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emmazing15/pseuds/Emmazing15
Summary: Feyren Archeron murders a Spring Court emissary in cold blood and finds himself bound to give Prythian his life. Stories of the ACOTAR series where everyone is a different gender to the original.





	1. The Spring Court

**Author's Note:**

> Summary: Feyren Archeron murders a Spring Court emissary in cold blood, so a golden-pelted beast comes to collect the price. Feyren is forced to leave his brothers and his father and give his life to Prythian. He comes to learn that perhaps there’s something behind the steely edges of the High Lady of the Spring Court and her foxy courtier.

The beast whirled on me. “Who killed the wolf?”

I stared into those jade eyes. “I did.”

He just blinked. I held the gaze, and I didn’t allow the fear coursing through my veins to show as I did. He glanced around at my brothers, huddled in the corner with my father, and then back at me. He took in my thinness– and no doubt saw my frailness instead. “Surely you lie to save them.” Now that he wasn’t snarling, the voice surprised me. It was gravelly, garbled by the teeth as well, but an an odd sort of tone.

“We didn’t kill anything!” Elaric shouted tearfully. Nestor hushed him sharply through his own quaking, but pushed Elaric farther behind him. My chest caved in at the sight of it.

My father climbed to his feet, going pale at the pain of it, but before he could limp toward me, I repeated: “I killed it.” The beast, who had been sniffing at my brothers, studied me. I squared my shoulders. “I sold its hide at the market today. If I had known it was a faerie, I wouldn’t have touched it.”

“Liar,” he snarled, “You knew. You would have been more tempted to slaughter it had you known it was one of my kind.”

He had me there. “Can you blame me?”

“Did it attack you? Were you provoked?”

I opened my mouth to say yes, but– “No,” I said, letting out a snarl of my own, “But considering all that your kind has done to us, considering what your kind still liked to _do_ to us, even if I _had_ known beyond a doubt, it was deserved.” Better to die with my chin held high than groveling like a cowering worm.

Even if his answering growl was the definition of wrath and rage.

The firelight shone upon his exposed fangs, and I wondered how they’d feel on my throat, how loudly I’d screamed before they ripped it out. Or how loudly my brothers would scream before they, too, died– but I knew, with a sudden, uncoiling clarity, that Nestor would try to buy time for Elaric to run. Not my father, whom he resented with all his steely heart. Not me, because Nestor always had always hated that he and I were two sides of the same coin, and that I could fight my own battles even as the youngest. But Elaric, the flower-grower, the gentle heart… Nestor would go down swinging for him.

It was that flash of understanding that had me angling my remaining knife at the beast. “What is the payment the Treaty requires?”

His eyes didn’t leave my face as he said, “A life for a life. Any unprovoked attacks on faerie-kind by humans are to be paid only by a human life in exchange.”

My family had gone silent. The mercenary in town had killed a faerie– but had attacked her first. “I didn’t know,” I said, “Didn’t know about that part of the Treaty.”

Faeries couldn’t lie. He spoke plainly enough, no word-twisting.

“Most of you mortals have chosen to forget that part of the Treaty,” he said, “which makes punishing you far more enjoyable.”

My knees quaked. I couldn’t escape this, couldn’t outrun this, couldn’t kill my way out now. Couldn’t even try, since my meager knife probably wouldn’t even get close enough to the muscle and sinew on the beast’s neck. He was blocking the door. “Do it outside,” I whispered, my voice trembling, “Not… here.” Not where my family would have to watch and wash away the blood and gore. If he even let them live.

The faerie huffed a vicious laugh. “Willing to accept your fate so easily?” When I just stared at him, he said, “For having the nerve to request _where_ I slaughter you, I’ll let you in on a little secret, human: Prythian must claim your life in some way, for the life you took from it. So as a representative of the immortal realm, I can either gut you like swine, or… you can cross the wall and live out the remainder of your days in Prythian.”

I blinked. “What?”

He said slowly, as if I really were swine, “You can either tonight or offer your life to Prythian by living in it forever, forsaking the human realm.”

“Do it, Feyren” my father whispered behind me, “Go.”

I didn’t look at him as I said. “Live _where_? Every inch of Prythian is lethal to us.” I’d be better off dying tonight than living in pure terror across the wall until I met my end in doubtlessly a more awful way.

“I have lands,” the faerie said quietly– almost reluctantly. “I will grant you permission to live on them.”

“Why bother?” Perhaps a fool’s question but–

“You murdered my friend,” the beast snarled, “Murdered him, skinned him, sold his hide at the market, and then said he _deserved_ it, and you have the nerve to question my generosity?” _How typically human,_ he seemed to silently add.

“You didn’t mention the loophole.” I stepped so close the faerie’s breath heated my face. He couldn’t lie, but that couldn’t stop him from omitting information.

The beast snarled again. “Foolish of me to forget that humans have such low opinions of us. Do you humans no longer understand mercy?” he said, his fangs inches away from my throat. The fact that we were of equal height did nothing to curb my racing heart. “Let me make this clear for you, _boy:_ you can either come live at my home in Prythian –offer your life for the wolf’s in that way– or you can walk outside right now and be shredded to ribbons. Your choice.”

My father’s hobbling steps sounded before he gripped my shoulder. “Please, good sir– Feyren is my youngest. I beseech you to spare him. He is all… he is all…” But whatever he meant to say died in his throat as the beast roared again. But hearing those few small words before my inevitable fate was like a blade in my gut. My father cringed as he said, “Please–”

“ _Silence_ ,” the creature snapped, and rage boiled up in me so blistering it was an effort to keep from lunging to stab my dagger in his eye. But by the time I had so much as raised my arm, I knew he would have his maw around my neck.

My father just spluttered while I stared at the beast, a deep ache settling itself in my stomach like a rock. He said something about getting money, which he would only be able to get through begging, and no one would hire my brothers either. Not with our soiled name. I’d seen how pitiless the well-off were in our village. The monsters in our mortal realm were just as bad as those across the wall.

The beast sneered. “How much is your son’s life worth to you? Do you think it equates to a sum?”

Nestor still had Elaric behind him, Elaric’s face so pale it matched the snow drifting in from the open door. But Nestor monitored every move the beast made, his brows lowered. He didn’t bother looking at my father– he knew the answer already.

When my father didn’t reply, I dared another step toward the beast, drawing his attention to me. I had to get him away from my family, because for now that’s all I could do. It was over. This beast wanted my life, _Prythian_ wanted my life. From the way he brushed away my knife, escape must lay in a surprise attack. With his hearing, I doubted I’d get a chance any time soon, at least until he believed I was docile. If I tried to attack or escape he would destroy my family for the sheer enjoyment of it. Then he would find me again. I had to go.

But… if the faeries couldn’t find me again, they couldn’t hold me to the Treaty. Even if it made me an oathbreaker. But in going with him, I would be breaking the most important promise I’d ever made. The one to my mother. Surely it trumped an ancient treaty that I hadn’t even signed.

I loosened my grip on my dagger. “When do we go?”

Those features remained lupine and vicious. Any lingering fight I had in me died when I watched him take my last ash arrow from my quiver and snap it in half. Every human in the room cringed. He tossed it in the fire and turned to me. “Now.”

_Now._

Even Elaric lifted his head to gape at me in mute horror. But I couldn’t look at him, couldn’t look at Nestor– not when they were still crouched there, silent. I turned to my father. His eyes glistened, so I glanced around our small space, the off-color pieces of furniture that were once my mother’s pride and joy. _Now._

The beast paced the doorway. Running would be foolish.

I launched into my emergency plan. I had gone over what my family would do without my numerous times in case I never came back. “The venison should hold for two weeks. Start on the fresh meat, and then work your way through the jerky– you know how to make it.”

“Feyren–” my father breathed, but I continued to fasten my cloak.

“I left the money from the pelts on the dresser.” I said. “It will last you for a time if you’re careful.” I ignored my family and tried to tune out the beast’s snarling as well. It would make it easier. “When spring comes, hunt in the grove and get water from the creek. Don’t forget to boil it before you use it. Ask Ida Hale how to make a snare… I taught her last year.”

My father nodded and covered his mouth with his hand. The beast snarled a warning and stalked into the night. Before I followed him I paused. Considered turning back and meeting the eyes of my brothers and perhaps offering even more advice. But I guess I had nothing else. And I could take no more tears. So I put my hood up and left the cottage.

I tried to pull the door closed behind me, but it met resistance. I turned, and my father was there.

“Don’t come back,” he whispered.

I stared at him. “What?”

“Don’t come back, Feyren,” he repeated and my eyes stung, “Wherever you end up, stay there. Make a name for yourself. Don’t _ever_ come back.”

Beyond, the beast was just a shadow. A life for a life– but what if the life offered as payment also meant losing three others? The thought alone was enough to steel me.

The sounds of the snow crunching under my boots and my racing heart were the only things I allowed myself to hear as I followed the beast unto the dark woods.

* * *

He enchanted me, the bastard. A horse had been waiting in the woods (no doubt for my benefit, since he didn’t need anything to help him get anywhere) and I was forced onto it. We weren’t even ten minutes into the forest when I tasted something tangy and heavy, and exhaustion knocked me out right in the mare’s saddle.

When I awoke, we were still moving, and we were actively emerging into a vast green land. The estate sprawled across a rolling land, and I’d never seen anything compare. It was veiled in roses and ivy, with patios and balconies and staircases sprouting from its alabaster sides. A balmy wind tugged at my cloak. It was too warm here for it. It was too colorful for someone like me, brown hair, pale eyes, pale skin.

The beast though– he matched it perfectly. The green of his eyes matched the meadow grasses and his golden fur was the same shade of sunlight.

The stench of metal hit my nose. I sniffed. Of course it would be magic, because it was spring here. What power did the faeries posses to make their lands so different from ours, to control seasons and weather like they owned them? I was sweaty and my layers made me feel like I was suffering, and the heat from my horse and the magic wearing off did not help. I shifted, trying to stretch my joints. There were no bonds.

The horse pulled to a stop before grand, oak front doors. The beast meandered ahead and leaped nimbly up the stairs. They opened on silent hinges for him, and he prowled inside. No doubt he had this entire entrance planned– keeping me unconscious so I wouldn’t know where I was, didn’t know the way home or what other faerie territories might be lurking between me and the wall. I quickly felt around for my knife but felt nothing but my layers of frayed clothing. The oak doors were still open. The message was clear.

This was going to go spectacularly.

He left me alone though… I could leave. I turned, looked over my shoulder, across the grounds where the treeline was still in view. South. I just needed to go south. I pulled the reins on the mare, but she didn’t budge, and still didn’t even when I dug my heels into sides. I let out a short, frustrated breath. Fine. On foot.

My knees buckled when I hit the ground, and I saw stars as I tried to orient myself. I grasped the saddle and winced as soreness and hunger hit me at the same time, and when the stars faded from my vision it became abundantly clear to me that I would fall over dead before I even made it through the gates. And then we would both be out of luck.

I took a long breath. I needed to get food and bolt at the next opportune moment. It sounded like a solid plan.

The inside of the estate was even more opulent than the outside. My boots soiled the marble floors, flecking slush and dirt all over it. The hall was barren save for me. However, a _smell_ did greet me. Something that I haven’t smelled in a long time. A banquet.

I walked down the hall, and a large door to my left revealed a dining hall. The long table was laid with wine and lavish amounts of food. Even just looking at it all was making my stomach turn, and I forgot about grabbing food and running, because I knew I couldn’t eat it. That was one of the first things we learned about faeries. Chants and childhood rhymes say to never eat the food and never drink the wine, unless you wanted to end up enslaved body, mind, and soul– and dragged back to Prythian. I watched as the beast padded across the room and slid towards the oversized chair at the head of the table. I lingered in the threshold, gazing at the food. Among the roiling, hunger stirred as well.

The beast plopped into the chair, the wood groaning, and, in a flash of white light, turned into a golden-haired woman.

The beast was not a “he” like I assumed. I was dead wrong.

I stifled a cry and pushed myself against the paneled wall beside the door, feeling for the molding of the threshold, trying to gouge the distance between me and escape. This beast was not a woman, not just a faerie either. She was one of the High Fae, one of their ruling nobility: beautiful, lethal, and merciless.

She was young– or from what I could see of her face she looked young. Her nose, cheeks, and brows were covered by an exquisite golden mask embedded with emeralds shaped like whorls of leaves. Some absurd High Fae fashion, no doubt. It left only her eyes– looking the same as they had in her beast form, and full lips, on full display for me to see. They were pressed into a tight line.

“You should eat something,” she said. Her voice was now more distinctly female, now that she was smaller and in her own body. Unlike the elegance of her mask, her riding habit was much more plain, accented only by the baldric she wore across her chest. It didn’t seem to make her uncomfortable at all. It was more for fighting than style… so she was not just High Fae, but a warrior too.

I watched on high alert as she leaned forward and filled a wine glass with rich burgundy liquid from an exquisitely cut crystal decanter. She tipped back and drank deeply, much deeper than any woman I’d ever encountered. Like she needed it.

I inched towards the door, my heart beating so fast I thought I would pass out. The cool metal of the door’s hinges bit into my fingers. If I moved fast, I could be out of the house and sprinting for the gate within seconds. She was undoubtedly faster but if I chucked a few of the trinkets in the hall in her path I might stand a chance. Though her Fae ears –with their delicate, pointed arches– would pick up any whisper of movement from me.

“Who are you?” I managed to say.

“Sit,” she said, nodding her head at the chair to her right. She waved a hand across the table. “Eat.”

Those chants ran through my head at top speed. Not worth it… even with ravenous hunger. I slowly shook my head.

She let out a low growl, so similar to the beast that I jumped again. “Unless you’d rather faint?”

“It’s not safe for humans,” I managed to say, offense be damned.

She huffed a laugh– more feral than anything. “The food is fine to eat, human.” Those strange green eyes pinned me on the spot, as if she could detect every muscle in my body. “Leave, if you want,” she added with a flash of white teeth, “I’m not your jailer. The gates are open– you can live anywhere in Prythian.”

And no doubt be tortured or eaten by a wretched faerie elsewhere. While every inch of this place was civilized and clean and beautiful, I had to get out, get back. I still held the promise to my mother, and cold and vain as she was it was all I had. I made no move towards the food.

“Fine,” she said, the word laced with a growl, and began serving herself.

I didn’t have to face the consequences of refusing him again, as someone strode past me, heading right for the head of the table.

“Well?” the stranger said. Another High Fae, red-haired and leaner than the other one. This female wore a dress, albeit a short one, of muted silver with brassy pants beneath it, tight at the ankle. She, too, wore a mask. She sketched a bow to the seated female and then crossed her arms. Somehow, she hadn’t spotted me pressed against the wall.

“Well, _what?_ ” The golden-haired one cocked her head, the movement more animal than human.

“Is Andra dead, then?”

A nod from my captor– savior, whatever she was. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“How?” the stranger demanded, her knuckles white as she gripped her arms.

“An ash arrow,” said the other. Her red-haired companion hissed. “The Treaty’s summons led me to the mortal. I gave him safe haven.”

“A boy– a mortal boy actually killed Andra.” Not a question, and every word was laced with venom. Do she had seen me on her way in. It made my cheeks burn red. _Boy._ I was no boy. I hunted, I killed, I provided for my family even though they were all my senior–

The golden-masked one tittered a laugh, the first mannerism that hasn’t been something like a predator. “Oh, he didn’t like that,” she said.

“I’m not a boy,” I said indignantly, with as much fire as I could muster.

But the redhead had far more than I did in her cruel snarl in answer. “What are you, then? A man?” she turned her head and surveyed me. The full view gave her mask a shape; a fox. It covered all but the bottom half of her face. “Men don’t kill in cold blood, human.”

I had nothing to say to that. So she turned her head away again and my captor swirled her wine glass. “The magic brought me right to his doorstep.”

“You’re joking,” said the redhead, “That scrawny thing brought down _Andra_ with a single ash arrow.”

 _Bitch–_ I found myself thinking it without hesitation. An absolute bitch. What a pity I didn’t have any of those arrows or my _damned knife_ now.

“He admitted to it,” said the golden-haired one tightly, tracing her finger around the lip of her glass. A long, lethal claw slid out and scraped against the metal rim. I tried to keep my breathing steady. “He didn’t try to deny it. Or me.”

The other whirled on me with fluid grace. Her dress was longer in the back; it swished around her like a cape. And her hair was braided, all the way down her back, but tendrils fell into her face and eyes and that’s what drew me in. She seemed to be… missing one. It was replaced with a golden orb that seemed to move as if she could use it. It fixed on me.

Then she turned away, a gesture not without dismissal. Reluctant dismissal. She sank onto the edge of the table on the golden one’s left. I could understand her mask, with the brutal scar and the missing eye, but the other High Fae female looked fine. It must be just an absurd fashion. “Well,” the red-haired one said, “now we’re stuck with _that,_ thanks to your useless mercy, and you’ve ruined–”

I stepped forward. I wasn’t sure what compelled me to do so, or what I wanted to say, but I wasn’t about to be spoken to like that. I kept my mouth shut but it was enough. The two females leveled their gazes on me, and fear bolted through my chest, because even though they were both sitting they made a terrifying pair. A painting no one would want on their wall. Self-proclaimed faerie experts always said the faerie realms were a matriarchy, but there were many others that said they weren’t, because who would give women that much power. But these two weren’t like any humans made them out to be. A fox… and a lion. Under beautiful, flawless skin and finery. I'd like to see anyone try to take power away from them.

“Did you enjoy killing my friend, human?” the fox demanded, “It must have been so satisfying for a small mortal thing like you to take her down.”

The lion one said nothing, but her jaw tightened. As they studied me I reached for a knife that wasn’t there. No doubt they picked up on my stupidity.

“Anyway,” the redhead continued and faced her companion with a sneer. She would likely laugh if I ever drew a weapon on her. “Perhaps there’s a way to–”

“Lucia,” my captor said quietly, the name echoing with a hint of a snarl, “Behave.”

Lucia went rigid and hopped off the table. She faced me and I was suddenly all too aware that I had nothing to hold on to. I shouldn’t have left the wall. But all she did was cross an ankle behind the other and dip into a deep curtsy. “My apologies, good sir.” Another joke at my expense. That was the most feminine I’d heard her sound yet. “I’m Lucia. Courtier and emissary.” She gestured to me with a flourish. “Your eyes are like stars and your hair like burnished gold, you make me weak in the knees.”

She inclined her head. Waiting for me to give my name, I realized, but I couldn’t find my voice. My throat closed up. I couldn’t tell her anything, about me, about my family–

“His name is Feyren,” said the one in charge– the beast. She must have learned my name at the cottage. Those striking green eyes met mine again and then flicked to the door. “Alix will take you to your room. You could use a bath and fresh clothes.”

I couldn’t decide if that was an insult or not. When Lucia snorted, I assumed it was meant to be one. Then there was a hand at my elbow and I flinched, and a servant was there. He short, older than the two it seemed, and wore a simple bird mask. The masks were definitely a trend then. He nodded his toward the staircase and was made to follow. The whispers of the two females followed me all the way up the winding stairs.

* * *

Alix called me _“nothing but skin and bones”_ while he helped me wash and dress. He was right, but it’s not like I needed anyone to explain it to me. I know what I am, and the fact that everyone looked so healthy here didn’t help.

The golden-haired Fae and Lucia were still in the dining room when Alix showed me back down. They no longer had plates before them but they still sipped from golden goblets. _Real_ gold, not paint or foil. I paused in the middle of the room. Such staggering wealth in one place while my family had nothing.

Nestor called me a half-wild beast. But compared to her, compared to this place, compared to the easy elegance of which they held their golden goblets and tossed their hair, how the golden-haired one had easily called me _human_ … we were all half-wild beasts to the High Fae. Even if they were the ones who could don fur and claws.

“Before you ask again,” said my captor. She waved her hand a full plate of food appeared on the table. My eyes widened at the sight of it. “The food is safe to eat.” I didn’t move. Not only did I know it could very well be poison or laced with magic, it also just materialized out of nothing. When I didn’t move, she sighed sharply. “What do you want, then?”

I said nothing. _To flee, save my family…_

“I told you, Tam,” drawled Lucia from her seat. She put her feet up on the table. Her shoes were not heeled. “Your skills with the males have definitely become rusty in recent decades.”

Tam? Is that it, her name? She glowered at Lucia, shifting in her seat. I tried not to stiffen with the other information she had given away. _Decades._ Of course they were immortal. They were probably hundreds of years old. Thousands. And neither of them looked much older than me, or at the very least Nestor.

“Well,” Lucia said, her remaining russet eye stuck on me, “You don’t look so bad now.”

Her eyes roved over my attire, an untailored tunic, and trousers, and then she smirked. I could have sworn the one in charge glowered a little deeper.

“Why don’t you wear something finer?” the redhead continued, her head tilted.

“Because it’s easier to kill us when he has room to breathe,” the other supplied.

I kept my face blank but Lucia tipped her head back, laughing, exposing her tanned throat. It would be easier… with a knife. Maybe the fork that sat beside the plate of untouched food.

“Just sit down,” said my captor.

My gaze moved down to the chair at the end of the table, directly across from her. I hesitated still. I didn’t have to eat, I told myself, I wasn’t a prisoner. But I did need… something. The Fae females did not look pleased with me.

“We’re not going to bite.”

“Well,” Lucia said, showing teeth that she would actually do that very thing should she desire, “Tamsin might.”

I moved my eyes to her, and her ever green gaze was still on me. She lifted her goblet to her full mouth and I gulped. I felt like I was in trouble, deep down, and not just because I killed an emissary. I felt like prey.

_Tamsin._


	2. The Spring Court, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feyren is trapped, but not a prisoner, as he becomes a familiar face around Tamsin's lovely manor. She gives him the first rose of spring, and he hears the word Calanmai for the first time.

The halls were silent and empty, strange for such a large estate. The High Fae females had mentioned others before, and there was evidence of cleanliness and things like cooks and stable hands, but I’ve seen no one in my exploring. However, walking around the Spring Court was admittedly nothing short of pleasant. The breeze floated through the open windows –did they ever close?– and brought with it the scent of various flowers and the sounds of birdsongs. 

Alix had found me early in the morning after my failed attempts of escape. I had ruined the curtains in my room trying to tie them together, after ripping and ripping to try to make a rope long enough. Truthfully it was only half-hearted… it seemed as though Tamsin was trying. 

She started to give me pathetic little complements if I ever ran into her during the day. She commented on my hair looking washed, bruises from drawing a bowstring healing on my arms, clothes fitting well. Although they didn’t quite make me feel complimented, per say, they did tell me that she wasn’t entirely wicked. She didn’t bring me here to torture me or to leave me with a faerie to devour. I was trapped, but I was no prisoner.

When I asked Alix what I was supposed to do with the rest of my mortal life here, he just laughed at me and said I should try taking a walk. If he was being serious or joking at my being wound-up was yet to be determined. 

Before I left I asked him what this place was.  _ Where  _ it was. He said it was safe and that was all I needed to know. Tamsin’s power and protection only goes so far, so I should keep my wits about me.

My walk was more than something to stave off boredom now; it was a way to glean some sense into my surroundings. Maybe there was someone here who would plead my case to Tamsin. She said she was helping my family but she would not go into details about what kind of help she provided. And it was making me crazy. 

I was almost to the grand staircase when I noticed the paintings.

I hadn’t let myself look before, when I was so on edge, but now in the empty hall with no one to see me… a flash of color amid a shadowy, gloomy background made me stop, a blossom of color and texture that compelled me to the gilded frame.

It’s just a still life, I told myself, but couldn’t help it when I reached up to run my hand over the canvas. It was just a green vase of drooping flowers with a black background. Some would call it boring, but an artist would know the talent it took to craft this. Every blossom was different– not only in flower type, but in color, size, and shape. Roses, tulips, morning glory, goldenrod, peonies… white peonies. 

I hadn’t painted anything in a long time. It’s been years and years since we could afford things like paint, except for the one time Elaric had splurged at the market and come home with paints for me. I had put personal touches all over the cottage that week, like tiny murals. But even that was ages ago.

I could have stared at the painting for hours, or at any of the others hanging on the walls, but I had plans. To scope the gardens. The grounds.

I moved on. Seeing all these paintings made me feel  _ off _ . Too comfortable. Art was too… human. Even if the High Fae were gentler than I had been led to believe my whole life, I still didn’t belong here. Maybe there was a way to convince Alix that it was wrong of the Treaty to summon me here. Perhaps he had some sort of sway or knew of any loophole to get me out of this debt–

“You,” someone said, and I halted my steps. In the light of the open glass doors to the garden, a shapely female figure stood silhouetted before me.

Tamsin. She wore those warrior’s clothes, cut close to show off her toned body, and three simple knives were now sheathed in her baldric– each one enough to look like it could shred me just as easily as her beast’s claws. Her blonde hair was tied away from her face, revealing those pointed ears and that strange, beautiful mask. “Where are you going?” she said, more of a demand than a question.  _ You–  _ I wondered if she remembered my name.

It took me a moment to focus again. “Good morning,” I said flatly. It was a better greeting than  _ You.  _ Tamsin lifted her chin. “You said to spend my time however I wanted. I didn’t realize I was under house arrest.”

Her jaw tightened. “Of course you’re not under house arrest.” Even as she bit out the words, I couldn’t ignore the sheer female beauty of the full lips, rosy cheeks, the richness of her golden-tan skin. She was probably lovely– if she ever took off that mask.

When she realized I wasn’t going to reply, she grit her teeth. “Do you want a tour?”

“No, thank you,” I managed to get out, conscious of my every awkward body movement as I edged around her.

She stepped into my path, and ended up so close she conceded a step back. “I’ve been sitting inside all morning. I need some fresh air.”

“I’m fine,” I said, casually dodging her, “You’ve… been generous enough.” I tried to sound like I meant it.

A half smile, not so pleasant, graced her features. “Do you have some sort of problem with me?” I was taken aback by the sheer  _ command  _ in her voice. No metallic tang, so she wasn’t using any magic there, she was just compelling. No doubt unused to being denied.

“No,” I said quietly, and walked through the doors.

She let out a low snarl. “I’m not going to kill you, Feyren. I don’t break my promises.”

I stumbled a bit on the garden steps, and I would have eaten concrete if I hadn’t been careful. I turned and stared at her. She stood there at the top, her hands folded behind her, looking solid and statuesque. “I heard you. But I don’t think harming is part of the Treaty. Is that a loophole in your plan? One that Lucia might use against me– or anyone else here?” I added.

“They’re under orders not to touch you.”

“Yet I’m still trapped in your realm, for breaking a rule I didn’t know existed. Why was your friend in the woods that day? I thought the Treaty banned you from our lands.”

She just stared at me. Perhaps I’d questioned her too much. She took a step down, closer to me, and fear shot unwelcome through me. For all the game I talked she could get a rise out of me with a mere fluid movement. And I think she knew it.

“The Treaty,” she said quietly, “Doesn’t keep  _ us  _ from doing anything, except enslaving you. The wall is an inconvenience. If we cared to, we could shatter it and march through to kill you all.”

I might be forced to live in Prythian, but my family… I dared to ask, “And do you care to destroy the wall?”

She looked me up and down, as if deciding whether I was worth the effort of explaining. “I have no interest in the mortal lands, though I can’t speak for my kind.”

“Then what was Andra doing there?” I continued, more confident that she hadn’t shut me down. She hadn’t answered my question.

But then, Tamsin stilled, if that were possible. Such unearthly, primal grace, even in her breathing. “There is… a sickness in these lands. Across Prythian. There has been for nearly fifty years now. It is why this house and these lands are so empty; most have left. The blight spreads slowly, but it has made magic act… strangely. My own powers are diminished due to it. These masks” –she tapped hers– “are the result of a surge of it that occurred during a masquerade forty-nine years ago. Even now, we can’t remove them.”

Stuck in masks– for nearly fifty years. I would have gone mad, would have peeled my skin right off my face. “You didn’t have a mask as the beast. Neither did your friend,” I said.

“The blight is cruel like that.”

Either live with a mask or live as a beast. “What… what sort of sickness is it?”

“It’s not a disease– not a plague or illness. It’s focused solely on magic, on those dwelling in Prythian. Andra was across the wall that day because I sent her for a cure.”

“Can it hurt humans?” My stomach twisted. “Will it spread over the wall?”

“Yes,” she said, “There is… a chance of it affecting mortals, and your territory. More than that, I don’t know. It’s slow moving so your kind is safe for now. We haven’t had any progression in decades… it’s been weakened by our magic.” That she’d even say so much to me spoke volumes of how she imagined my future: I was never going home, never going to encounter another human to whom I might spill this secret vulnerability.

“A mercenary told me she believed the faeries are thinking of attacking.”

A hint of a smile, perhaps surprised. “Do you talk to mercenaries often?”

“I’ll speak to anyone who gives me valuable information.” I said. Her smile widened. “Is it related?”

She lifted a shoulder, the most casual thing I’d ever seen her do. “I don’t know.”

I swallowed and nodded mutely, and then turned away. Flowers, gardens, a walk. I had something to do. I didn’t hear her behind me, but she did say, “I might take an animal form, Feyren, but I am civilized.”

So she did remember my name. But I looked pointedly ahead of me.

She knew I wasn’t going to reply. “I’ll see you at dinner,” she snapped, and then it was followed by the sharp slam of the garden door.

It wasn’t a request. I strode off between the hedges, not caring where I was going, only that she didn’t come with me. 

A sickness in their lands, affecting their magic, draining it from them. We’d be defenseless against it. And the High Fae didn’t seem to care.

* * *

 

At dinner one night I was alone with Lucia. I had been keeping careful count of the days I’d been trapped here– thirteen. Just under two weeks. Tamsin’s been gone for the last three. No one would tell me where she went.

Alix said the house was safe, but warned me to keep my wits about me– to a point. What might lurk beyond the house that might be able to use my own senses against me? Just how far would Tamsin’s order not to harm me stretch? How much authority did she hold?

Lucia paused, a goblet halfway to her mouth, and I found her smirking at me, making the scar even more brutal. “Were you admiring my sword or just contemplating killing me, Feyren?”

“Of course not,” I said softly.

She snorted and finished off all her wine. “I would be more inclined to believe you if you said you were admiring my tits,” she commented.

My cheeks turned pink and I stared anywhere but at Lucia. I was no stranger to the pleasures of a woman, but I never,  _ ever,  _ considered looking at either High Fae in that way. Some human women got testy when men looked at them the wrong way, I couldn’t even imagine what faerie females would do. 

Steps echoed into the room. “Do you really think so low of him?” Tamsin crossed the room, startling me, and Lucia’s shoulders squared. The former plopped into her usual chair and grabbed a cup to fill with wine.

She took a sip and looked at the redhead. “Well?”

“He’s a male human,” Lucia said, “They don’t have a society like ours. Their world is run solely by  _ kings _ , you know.”

Tamsin moved her emerald gaze from her emissary to me, and a rock settled in my stomach. “I don’t think he sees us as conquests,” she said softly, and I looked over to meet her gaze, “This is our land. He knows it. No matter how deadly he thinks it is.”

Lucia turned her head and sized me up. I forced myself to look away from the High Lady and to her. Her red hair glowed in the firelight, and her slight form was hugged nicely by her choice in clothing, but it was true. She was a fox and I was… a worm, but her standards.

“At least you’re not a pig,” she admitted. I raised my eyebrows in surprise. That was almost a compliment. I looked over at Tamsin, and she was already smiling. Less vicious, more lazy, as if she was expecting this conversation when she walked in. Act civilized, behave, possibly win her to my side… I could do that.

Tamsin broke the silence. “Feyren likes to hunt.”

“I don’t  _ like _ to.” I should probably use a more polite tone with the whole winning her over thing. “It was necessity. And how do you know?”

Tamsin’s stare was incredulous. She pulled her hair out from its confines on the back of her head, and it fell in straight golden locks down the back of her neck, across her forehead. “What else were you doing in the woods that day? You had a bow and arrows in your home. When I saw your father’s hands I knew he wasn’t the one doing anything. You told him about rations and money.” She waved one of her own hands and adjusted herself so that she was now lounging in her chair. “Faeries may be many things, but we’re not stupid. Unless your ridiculous legends claim that about us too.”

I hadn’t felt like anything but a based man until that moment. Back to being just another human.  _ Ridiculous, insignificant.  _

I went back to staring at my plate. I could have bought so much with just one of the fine china plates– a house, a field, draft horses and a plow. Disgusting.

Lucia cleared her throat. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Nineteen.” Pleasant, civilized…

She tsked. “So young, and so grave. And a skilled killed already.”

I tightened my hands into fists. She talked to me like I was a child, and though we looked to be all from the same generation, compared to her I was the same age as a child. An immortal at the age of nineteen might still be suckling for all I know. I wanted to fight back but… docile, unthreatening, tame. I was pleasant. I was thankful for their hospitality.

“So is this what you do with your immortal lives? Spare humans from the Treaty and have fine meals?” I gave a pointed glances to Tamsin’s baldric, the warrior’s clothes, Lucia’s sword. 

Lucia smirked. “We also dance with spirits under the full moon and snatch human babies and replace them with changelings–”

“Didn’t…” Tamsin interrupted, her voice surprisingly gentle, “didn’t your mother tell you anything about us?”

I loosened my fists and instead balled them in my tunic. “She didn’t have time to tell me stories,” I said quietly.

Lucia, for once, didn’t laugh. After a rather stifled pause, Tamsin asked, “How did she die?” When I lifted my brows, she added a bit more softly, “I didn’t see signs of a woman in your house.”

Predator or not, I didn’t need her pity. But I said, “Typhus. When I was eight.” I rose from my seat to leave.

“Feyren,” Tamsin said, and I half turned. A muscled feathered in her cheek.

Lucia glanced between us, the metal eye roving, but kept silent. Then Tamsin shook her head, the movement more animal than anything, and murmured, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

I tried to keep myself from grimacing as I turned and left. I didn’t need her condolences or her pity or her  _ anything.  _ I could be pleasant. I was doing well at being pleasant. But we didn’t have to be friends.

* * *

 

I wandered through the sunny gardens one morning after breakfasting by myself. The two High Fae females had been gone for two days now, where they wouldn’t tell me, but I guess I really didn’t need to know. I have learned that I was completely clueless about how their world worked, and they must know that I didn’t have to trust them to stay here. Pleasant had got me less probing.

It was dangerous outside the manor. But I had been here long enough now to know that Tamsin and Lucia weren’t going to do me any harm. 

“There you are,” said a voice from above me, and I was so startled she started to laugh. Lucia was lounging in the tree branches right above me, her arms crossed and one leg dangling into the open air below her. “Tam’s been looking for you,” she told me. She looked out of place among the vibrant green leaves. She wore a dress, a long one, like a lady would wear, but it was hitched up past her knees. It matched her fox mask perfectly.

“What does she need me for?” 

Lucia shrugged. She plucked a green leaf from the tree and then watched it flutter from her hand. I stepped out of the way so it wouldn’t land right on my nose, and she laughed again. Then, in a fluid motion, she jumped down from the tree and stood before me. I wondered what she was up to today, wearing a burnished gold dress and her hair braided carefully away from her face. None of the usual tendrils in her eyes. Now that she was close to me, I could see that her face was painted too. Khoal around her eyes, red coloring to her lips. 

“When did you get back?” I asked her.

“This morning,” she replied and sneered, looking away. That simple motion told me that her frustration was not at me. “Unfortunately just in time for a meeting. Logistics, nothing special.”

That was new information. Neither she nor Tamsin had ever shared any of their work with me, besides the small number of patrols with Lucia I had rode on. I tried to hide my surprise. “Um, logistics for what?” I dared a question more.

“Calanmai,” said Lucia, “Only a couple more weeks away.”

I furrowed my brows. I had never heard that word before. Lucia looked back over at me and studied my confused expression, then she rolled her eyes. I gave her a look, now letting myself be openly annoyed whenever she went back to the  _ stupid human _ mentality. “Fire Night. The official beginning of spring. It’s a holiday, and the Spring Court takes it very seriously for obvious reasons. Some lesser faerie lords are coming today to talk some things over with Tamsin.”

“Here to the manor?” I asked her, panic blooming in my chest. No lesser faeries knew about me, save for the few villages on the border I’d seen with Lucia.

She shook her head. “No, there’s a meeting place beyond the grounds, an old temple no one uses anymore. Tamsin wasn’t about to have any of those fools in here with you around.”

Oh. If I’m interpreting Lucia’s words correctly then Tamsin had taken my safety into account. It wasn’t just to keep me isolated like I would have thought when they both disappeared again. 

“Lucia.” We both were drawn to the soft voice at the glass manor door, and Tamsin was there. Looking at her was like a swift punch to the gut. She had also ditched the warrior’s clothing, and now wore a gown of rich green the same shade of the emeralds on her mask. Her hair was curled delicately around her face, and a small golden crown sat atop her head. “Check with the stable hands to make sure our horses are ready. Please,” said the High Lady. And she really did look like one, standing there dressed as she was and silhouetted in the light from inside.

Lucia nodded once. Surprisingly, she turned to me and gave my arm a little squeeze with her hand before walking away. It was an effort to tear my gaze away from Tamsin’s radiance to even acknowledge the other female, but I managed, and when I looked back at her she was approaching me. Her hands were folded behind her back as she did.

“Horses,” I said, my throat dry, and one corner of her mouth turned up, “Didn’t you just return on them?”

She shook her head. “No. We have other ways of transportation, but it’s polite to meet with those of lesser status without showing off our magic.”

I nodded slowly. “Of course.”

“I don’t expect you to understand,” Tamsin said, and her tone of voice suggested no malice in the statement. I didn’t know where to look at her. Her dress was modest, no plunging neckline and sleeves all the way to her wrists, but the fact that she was wearing one at all was too different for me. I felt like I was violating her. And locking eyes… that was a trap. I would never look away until she released me. It felt too intimate.

“Lucia told you about Calanmai,” she continued.

I lifted a shoulder. “Only a bit.”

“I wasn’t planning on telling you. It’s more than a holiday and… well, you’ll see when it comes.” She drew in a breath, I watched her chest rise and fall, and then she brought her hands out from behind her back. She held one, long-stemmed red rose. “First one of the season,” she explained, “Lucia and I found it while we were gone. I thought you should have it.”

I stared at her. I did like flowers… peonies were my favorite. But I didn’t expect her to know that. I loved helping Elaric trim the bushes in his garden, if only I could have a few blooms to use as references to paint. “Why?”

Tamsin simply reached for my wrist, and I didn’t pull away. She lifted my hand up and placed the rose in it. “I just want you to know that not everything that occurs here has to do with death,” she said. I looked up to her face just as she did the same. “Sometimes we cultivate life too.”

I swallowed and closed my hand around the stem of the rose. I expected her to walk away then, but her hand started to move from my wrist, up my arm. Her other hand moved up to gently touch my chest, over where my heart thundered. Her left hand ran over my elbow and up towards my shoulder as the right went south, and I couldn’t breath. She had never touched me before. Her left hand caressed my cheek, barely there, just a wisp of something tracing my cheekbone. Her right hand settled on my stomach. 

“You’ve gained weight,” she commented. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing would come. She just smiled and nodded to herself. There was no insult. I had been starving not even a month ago. “I’ve done my job well.”

Then, Tamsin released me and turned to go, presumably to find Lucia and then ride off to their meeting. It did truly feel like she had released me from a spell, though I tasted no magic. That moment, her giving me a rose, her fingers touching me through my shirt and tunic, had made me forget everything I was intending to do here.

“Oh and Feyren.” Tamsin paused just a few feet ahead of me. I looked back up at her, only at her eyes, and she met my gaze when she turned her head over her shoulder. With the flowers nearly blooming all around her, and her green gown matching the trees in the background, I suddenly wanted to burn this scene into my mind forever so I could paint it. 

“Yes?”

“Don’t be afraid to look.” And with one more small smile she turned and continued on her way, the hem of her gown brushing the manicured lawn with every step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All direct quotes from chapters 7 and 8 of ACOTAR, credited to Sarah J. Maas. Thank you.
> 
> wordsaremything.tumblr.com

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own ACOTAR. Direct quotes taken from chapters 4 and 5 of ACOTAR are accredited to Sarah J. Maas. Thank you.
> 
> wordsaremything.tumblr.com


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